Northern Lights
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Eric&Pam/ - Wherever she goes, he follows. There is no running from him. Memories lurking in every corner of every country. -/ "The world belongs to us," he'd promised her, decades ago, offering her a kingdom to rule like the gods had ruled the universe once./ dark&twisty


**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

**AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

**Warning: a (little) dark&twisty (it's Pam&Eric after all), alternative take on the end of Season 4, I might have pushed a few events a little bit back and forth and ignored a few other to make it work here, also Eric's exact eye color seems to change from episode to episode (the lighting I guess) so I just stick with the one I prefer**

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**Northern Lights**

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**I**

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With her arms crossed over her chest Pam leans against the wall, watching the crowd in front of her.

It's Fangtasia's first well-attended night in weeks, but she just can't bring herself to care.

In her mind she keeps torturing them, _slaughtering vampires and humans alike_, the mental image making her smile, and she finds herself wondering if it might be enough to rouse Eric's attention again.

_Probably not._

"Pam?"

Turning her head slightly, Pam meets Jessica's gaze. The redhead had been sitting at the counter for quite a while now, watching Pam from over her untouched bottle of TruBlood and doing a miserable job at hiding it.

"What?" Pam drawls, trying to sound as annoyed and bored as usual, even though she's neither. Jessica's presence a very welcome distraction for once.

"Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you look…" Jessica starts and then stops, all embarrassed and unsure and so _fucking_ sweet.

Pam rolls her eyes. "Just spit it out, cupcake."

"Well, different." Jessica finishes almost apologetically and Pam has to hide her amusement.

"Do I?" she prompts, her brows raised.

"I don't mean different in a bad way …" Jessica rambles on, looking quite adorable. "It's just usually you're all dressed up like … well, you know…"

"Like what?" If vampires had the ability to blush, Pam's sure Jessica would be blushing.

"Well, I mean, I just wondered…" the young vampire keeps going, her fingers absently playing with a strand of her beautiful red hair and Pam's tempted to reach forward to touch it.

"After what happened with Eric the other night I just-"

"Listen, sweetheart," Pam cuts her off midsentence. Her voice calm, but strained. Pushing herself away from the wall she takes a step forward, leaning over the counter until her lips are almost touching Jessica's.

"I'm flattered," Pam mutters quietly, her fingers gently moving down the side of Jessica's flawless face. "But if you keep talking, I'm going to rip off your head."

Returning to her initial position, back against the wall and arms over her chest, Pam continues to watch the crowd for the rest of the night in silence.

.

"Eric, it's me. If you're mad at me, fine, but we have a business to run. Call me."

Making her way inside his office, Pam has to fight the urge to throw her phone against the wall.

It's been days and he still hadn't bothered to call her back. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

They've had their fair share of fights over the last hundred years, _sure_, but this was different.

Eric hadn't even wanted to listen to her when she'd tried to apologize, _but then,_ why would he? She hadn't meant it to begin with. Still, what had he been thinking? That she stood by watching, while he offered his life for _fucking_ _Sookie_?

Coming to a stop at the bookshelf behind his desk, Pam reaches for a picture frame holding a shot of them both. She can't remember the occasion; all she knows is that it had been taken way before Sookie had come along.

_I should have killed her the second she walked in._

When the frame breaks under her iron grip, Pam doesn't flinch. She holds on tighter, glass piercing her skin, drawing blood.

She hasn't fed in days and instead of healing right away, blood starts pouring. She should let go, but she doesn't. Tightening her grip, Pam watches quietly as more and more blood wells up from the cut on her wrist.

There's no pain, only emptiness. An emptiness she hasn't felt since Eric had turned her.

_"Pamela?"_

It's his voice, but only in her head. Nothing but an echo from the past.

_"What have you done?"_

In one sudden movement Pam spins around, an angry scream on her lips, when she pushes Eric's belongings to the floor. Memories flooding her mind with every trinket that shatters on the ground.

There's no going back.

_I lost him the second he laid eyes on her._

She feels him hovering in the door long before she dares to turn her head to look at him. When she does, she knows the streaks of crimson on her cheeks give her away.

But Eric doesn't even blink. He stays silent, his face hard and unforgiving. There's nothing but disappointment in his eyes, nothing but regret. Everything they ever had gone.

_A century turned to dust._

It's Eric who looks away first. Everything that's left to say, said with that one little gesture.

_It's over._

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She's never known a silence as loud as this.

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_(Get out of my sight before I kill you.)_

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**II**

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Italy is filled with memories of a time long gone.

It's been decades since she's last been here, back in the old days, when vampires were nothing but a dark myth.

Eric had taken her to Milan and Verona, Venice and Florence. Had shown her Naples and Palermo.

In Rome they'd invaded a Catholic girls school and for months the thick walls of the convent had been their home, shielding them not only from the blazing sun, but from the risk of being discovered too.

She remembers the Coliseum and a star lit sky and Eric swaying her through the arena to the cries of their latest victim.

Now everything's different.

She makes her way through the country by herself, feeding on willing humans whenever she feels like. She's choosing men and women with dark hair and dark eyes, _all young and alive and nothing like him._

She never takes too much though; a trail of dead bodies is the last thing she needs.

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Greece is just as overwhelming as it had been the first time he'd taken her there.

She remembers everything he told her about Greek Mythology and the Olympian Gods. Everything he'd shown her from the Ruins of Athens to Mount Olympus.

"The world belongs to us," he'd promised her, decades ago, with blood stained lips and a dead woman at his feet. Standing on Mount Olympus and offering her a kingdom to rule like the gods had ruled the universe once.

She's standing there all alone now, her eyes cast up towards a blackened sky. Eric had taught her the constellations a century ago, but tonight Pam can't find any.

_Maybe they left me too._

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Spain is strikingly beautiful. Barcelona at night just as bright as in daylight, Antoni Gaudis buildings still as colorful and impressive as they've always been.

Tourists are roaming the streets, sparsely dressed and slightly drunk, hopelessly young- just waiting to be taken.

She finds herself between slender legs night after night, piercing the tender flesh where she loves it the most. She picks women with dark hair and dark eyes, their skin all soft and warm, their flawless bodies burning with life. _And nothing, nothing, like him._

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Wherever she goes, he follows. There is no running from him. Memories lurking in every corner of every country.

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_(We traveled the world together. Killing, fuckin' and laughing.)_

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**III**

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In England all it does is rain. London is grey and bitter, reminding Pam of all the reasons she left. It's not the same city she ran from a century ago, back in her human days, and yet to her it still is.

Maybe it's London or the weather or maybe it's just the_ god awful _sundress, but the second Pam spots the blonde girl in the white dress at the other side of the street- she snaps.

It's not Sookie, no,_ but fuck__,_ this might be the closest she'll ever get.

She pulls her into the nearest alley, too fast for any CCTV camera to catch. She's careful at first, gentle and sweet- almost caring- until she isn't. When Pam buries her fangs in the girl's neck, all she sees is_ Sookie _and she doesn't stop until the girl's heart stops beating.

Pushing her dead body into the Thames, Pam watches, completely satisfied, as the black water swallows her. And for the first time in months, she's at ease with herself.

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In Scotland she's greeted with rugged cliffs, green hills and deep blue lakes.

It's raining, an overcast night sky above her head and a stormy breeze whipping her hair across her cheeks.

Pam's staring out into the dark, watching the tourists gathered on the rocky shore around the lake.

_Fucking humans._

Didn't the world host enough monsters already?

She picks a group of three men, all young and drunk and_ fucking_ stupid. She leaves their bodies as if they'd been washed up on the shore, torn apart by some sea monster instead of a vampire.

After all, she'd been taught by the best.

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Ireland offers a rugged coastline, old castles and lush green pastures.

In Killarney she meets Ava, a teenage girl with red hair, blue eyes and the sweetest of all smiles. Her bratty attitude is annoying and even more so her never ending questions and yet, when she asks Pam to take her with her, Pam does.

They make it to Belfast before Ava begs Pam to turn her. Her blue eyes filled with hope and trust and longing and Pam just wants her to shut the _fuck _up.

_She doesn't._

And neither does Eric, his voice only a whisper in her head, but there all the same. _"If you had any idea of the responsibility that comes with being a maker you wouldn't dare ask."_

They travel up north, further and further until there's nothing left but rocky black cliffs and the Atlantic Ocean spread endlessly in front of them. Ava asks her again and this time Pam gives her a nod, the faintest hint of consent, before she snaps her pretty little neck like it's a twig.

_"Becoming a maker is an eternal commitment."_ Eric whispers inside her head, his voice filled with something she doesn't understand. _"Greater than any marriage, deeper than any human bond."_

She pushes Ava over the edge, watches from above as her dead body tumbles down the cliff and towards the churning waves. Ava's blue eyes still open, _frozen__,_ gone. The only thing left, Eric's voice whispering in Pam's head: _"To throw that away is sacrilege."_

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It's not enough to make her feel something.

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_(You know I love you more when you're cold and heartless.)_

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**IV**

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France is charged with electricity. Paris at night is just as radiant and vicious as it's always been.

Pam blends right in, leaving a trail of dead bodies on her way through the country. She takes tall men and beautiful women, picks sweet boys and pretty girls. It was interesting once, now they all look the same.

She leaves their bodies drained dry, covering the cause of their deaths just enough to fool local authorities. She stopped caring long ago.

Where Paris is filled with life, the Rhone Valley is dark and quiet. The estate on the vineyard uninhabited, the vines parched and dead. Just like the vintner's daughter.

_Sylvie._

Thirty years ago, Eric had chosen Pam's life over his humans in the blink of an eye.

_"Pam. Pam lives."_

Tonight she's not even sure he would pick a fight.

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She's in Denmark, Copenhagen, when she catches sight of a crying child one night. She's sauntering down the promenade when she spots the boy, a little boy with blonde hair and chubby cheeks, looking all lost, a trickle of blood running down the side of his head.

Pam doesn't give a_ fuck_ about children, never has, not as a human and certainly not as a vampire. And even though Eric had been telling her for over a century that they were _quite __delicious__,_ she never tasted their blood either.

She steps closer now anyway, rounds the boy like the hunter she is, slowly, carefully, her hand reaching forward to catch some of his blood with her thumb. He lifts his head, terrified and Pam stills immediately, mesmerized at the sight of his deep blue eyes.

_No._

She takes a step back and then another. The sudden pain in her chest all too physical. The boy is starring back at her, his eyes wide and achingly familiar, almost unnatural, the color of a moonlit sky, a perfect replica of her makers.

The boy's eyes grow big and bigger, before he takes off running and Pam watches, disturbingly relieved, as he disappears out of her line of sight.

She doesn't follow, but when she sucks the child's blood from her thumb, she's not surprised to learn that it tastes like _home._

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Iceland is just as cold and fierce and endless as Pam remembers. Majestic volcanoes and sparkling waterfalls, green hills and snowy mountains. Black cliffs dropping straight into the ocean, dangerous and deadly.

It's her first night back on the island, when Pam finds herself a stunning young man with black curls and dark blue eyes. He's kind and lovely, too boring to _fuck_, but the taste of his blood is sublime.

She keeps standing on the shore afterwards, watches as the water carries his dead body off and deeper into the sea, further and further away, until he disappears behind the dark horizon.

She's been here before, decades ago, listening to Eric as he told her about trolls and elves and sea monsters. A crooked smile tugging at the corners of his blood stained lips, the hint of amusement in his voice, re-telling all the stories he'd been told as a child.

He'd never failed to surprise her.

_"Pamela."_

There's a sudden movement to her right, _Eric's voice a whisper in her ear,_ a slight breeze making her shiver. But when Pam turns around there's nothing there. Nothing but darkness. No one but her. The only sound the constant thunder of the Atlantic Ocean.

_"What have you done?"_

It's all it takes for her to shatter.

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Without him, the world means nothing anymore. And neither does eternity.

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_(Let me walk the world with you, Mr. Northman. Or watch me die.)_

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**V**

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In Finland she finds never ending forests and deep blue lakes. The nights are dark and cold and quiet, the sky above her head lit with a thousand stars. Yet all she can think about is _home_.

Pam is on her way south when she comes to a small village. She catches sight of the girl right away, white blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, all innocent and naive. _Fuckingadorable._

She takes her to the woods, lures her deep and deeper into the dark. The girl anything but scared and why would she be? After all Pam promised to give her the world.

It's not until it's over, the girl's drained body carelessly tossed aside, that Pam notices the teenage boy hiding between the trees. She has him cornered against a trunk with ease, her eyes searching his. Something about him seems oddly familiar, from the way he's staring back at her, to the way his hands seem to...

_A fairy boy._

She bends closer, a smile tugging at the corners of her blood stained lips, her grip tightening. She remembers Eric telling her that Sookie smelled like wheat and honey and sunlight, but to Pam, just like Sookie, the boy smells like nothing at all.

_"Sookie's blood tastes like freedom,"_ Eric whispers in her head, his voice filled with longing. _"Like sunshine in a pretty blonde bottle."_

When Pam sinks her fangs in the boy's neck, she finds nothing but darkness. Nothing but pain and despair, sorrow and fear. His blood all wrong, bitter and disgusting.

_Rotten to the core._

She stumbles backwards, already retching.

The taste of fairy blood nothing but poison to her.

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By the time Pam makes it to Norway she hasn't fed in weeks.

The Fjords are stunning, the landscape intimidating and dramatic. The weather harsh and gloomy. The nights are long and dark, dawn always a little further away. It should be thrilling, but it's not. Not anymore.

Standing on the edge of a cliff she's staring out at the churning sea, imagining Vikings sailing down the rough Scandinavian coastline. Dragon-headed long ships with brightly colored sails, efficient and deadly, build for warriors.

She remembers the tales Eric had told her about the Norse gods. About Odin and Thor and Loki. And about all the gods and goddesses rarely mentioned anywhere. He'd told her about great Viking leaders, about kings and queens and warrior princesses who fought just as fiercely as their men had.

He'd been among them, Eric. Over a thousand years ago. _A __fucking Viking warrior god, a king _and_ a conqueror,_\- burning, plundering and killing.

_I would have fallen for him then too__,_ Pam thinks, slowly closing her eyes.

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Winter in Sweden is cold and dark and lonely. There's nothing but an eerie quiet, snow and ice, and a never-ending darkness. At least, that's what it feels like to Pam.

When she finally reaches Kalmar, she hasn't fed in months.

_She's never been as tired as this._

She finds herself a handsome young man, tall and blonde, almost as cocky as Eric, but still desperate enough to offer his blood. Pam just shakes her head though and tells him to take her to Öland instead.

The drive is quiet, but he offers his blood once more and Pam is relieved when his features start to blur in front of her eyes so she doesn't have to see the pity in his.

When she gets out of the car it's snowing again.

The old farmhouse looks worse than she expected, what had been a home once barely more than a ruin now, but it's not what she came for anyway.

She keeps walking through the dark, her movements slow and unsteady, her heels just not made for the weather. She keeps stumbling and falling, but she keeps going. Anxious she might not make it before sunrise.

She finds the ship set up on the ground next to the dock just like she remembers. Its square sail towering high up into the sky, bloody red, all bright and vivid amidst the white winter landscape. The dragon-headed Viking long ship Eric had himself built, decades ago, still as stunning and impressive as it'd always been.

She'd rolled her eyes at him when he first showed it to her, told him it was _fucking_ ridiculous and childish, arousing far too much attention from the humans living near by.

But he'd just laughed, telling her to come and conquer the world with him.

_And for decades, they had._

Pam stumbles up onto the ship with what's left of her strength, falling to her knees as soon as she makes it. Allowing her body to rest, she lies down with her back on the snow-covered planks, staring up into the dark night sky above. She can't help but wonder if the ship will burn along with her, re-calling all the stories Eric had told her about fallen Viking kings and queens sent off to Valhalla on burning ships.

Not that Pam would ever consider herself worthy of such honor. After all, she's been nothing but a_ whore._

_"What's it like being what you are?"_

_"Oh, it would take several of your lifetimes to answer that question." _

_"Then make me a vampire and we'll have all the time in the world."_

_"You don't know what you're asking." _

_"Yes, I do. I'm not afraid."_

_"I can see that. Most humans beg me to spare their lives, but you want me to take yours." _

_"I want you to give me one worth living."_

She remembers the despair and the _awful_ longing in her heart, back in that brothel in San Francisco in 1905, and the sorrow in Eric's eyes when he told her no.

_"An honorable vampire? Isn't that a contradiction?"_

_"No more than an intelligent whore, yet here we are."_

Closing her eyes, Pam allows her tears to fall, bloody red tears spilling down her frozen cheeks. She's never been afraid; she won't start now.

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She's lifted into the air effortlessly, her body cradled against a solid chest, strong arms holding her tight. Eric's lips softly brushing against her ear, when he whispers:

"I found you."

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_(Delightful, but it's you I came to see.)_

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**VI**

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She wakes up in his arms with her head on his chest and the rich taste of blood on her tongue. She faintly remembers Eric forcing it down her throat and the sound of someone else's screams. But it's quiet now, quiet except for the faint hum of the jet.

"I have to admit I'm impressed," Eric states, his fingers gently running through her hair. "How many has it been? I lost count sometime after Paris."

He sounds proud, of course he does, he's _Eric fucking Northman_, but there's something else. Something Pam can't decipher.

"You were there the whole time, weren't you?" she asks quietly, even though she already knows.

"I told you," Eric murmurs, his voice dark and heavy with emotion. "Becoming a maker is an eternal commitment. Greater than any marriage, deeper than any human bond."

"Do you regret it?" Pam can't stop herself from asking.

She feels his fingers brush against her chin and she looks up slowly, her eyes finally meeting his for the first time in over a year.

"No," Eric states, his voice sure and honest, his gaze never breaking away from hers. A thousand memories displayed in his deep blue eyes. "I don't regret it, Pam, I never have. And I never will."

When he cups her face in his palm, gentle and careful, his eyes are filled with nothing but love.

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With her arms crossed over her chest Pam leans against the wall, watching not only the crowd, but Sookie and Eric as well.

It's Fangtasia's first well-attended night since their return, but Pam just can't bring herself to care.

Sookie had come rushing in not even an hour ago, in one of her_ stupid_ sundresses of course, demanding to speak to Eric.

They're at a table at the other side of the room now, Sookie talking while Eric listens. His features stoic, offering Pam nothing and she's tempted to listen in, already wondering what disaster was waiting for her this time.

"Pam?"

Turning her head slightly, Pam meets Jessica's gaze. The redhead's leaning against the counter, _all sweet and lovely,_ a dazzling smile on her cherry red lips. Her blue eyes glistening in the dim light.

"Look at you," Pam drawls, trying to sound as annoyed and bored as usual, even though she's neither. Jessica's presence a very welcome distraction. "Someone taught you how to dress."

"You like it?" Jessica asks, _adorably unsure,_ while she takes a step back and away from the bar looking down at herself. Pam does too, pleasantly surprised, thinking that the _very promising_ black leather dress could have been stolen right out of her own wardrobe.

_Wait a second..._

"I wasn't sure when Eric gave it to me, but-"

"What?" Pam scowls.

"Yeah," Jessica nods, all proud and _unbelievably innocent_. "I think it was a thank you gift for helping Ginger with the bar while you two were gone. Not that Eric would have to thank me of course-"

"You've got to be _fucking_ kidding me," Pam mutters in disbelief, slowly turning her head back to Eric.

When she does, he's already watching her. All calm and measured, only the flicker of amusement in his eyes giving him away.

"It's yours, isn't it?" Jessica asks, the hint of disappointment in her voice forcing Pam to look at her.

"I'm sorry, Pam, I just got home and-"

Pam rolls her eyes. "Keep it."

Jessica stills, looking _fucking_ sweet. "Are you sure?"

"No." Turning her attention back to the crowd, Pam pretends not to notice the way Jessica's watching her. "But keep it anyway."

Jessica bites her lip and for a second it seems like she wants to say something, but then she doesn't and Pam's left trying not to look after her.

"You like her," Eric states with a devilish smirk on his face, leaning back against the wall right next to where she's standing.

"Maybe I do," Pam muses, not surprised at his sudden appearance. "Where's Sookie?"

"On her way back to Bon Temps I hope."

"Should I be worried?"

"Not yet."

Turning her head slightly, Pam meets his gaze. He's holding back something, she can tell.

She's about to ask, but then he reaches for her face, his fingers carefully brushing away a strand of her hair- and she doesn't.

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They're together. And at the end of the night, that's enough.

.

_(But you still love me? Always.)_

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


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